Ground Zero
by Hidden.Elegance
Summary: The new coffee shop is comfortable, quiet, and peaceful. There Hotchner meets a woman who calms him, helps him, and makes him smile. Everyone deserves happiness, and his exists with her.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hi all! I do, actually, still exist. Sorry about the extended hiatus. Since I last appeared I have graduated college and started grad school. And apparently now I'm starting a new story. Let me know what you all think! Hopefully my writing has improved, or at least not deteriorated too much . . .

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously Criminal Minds was not created by me and I have no claim to it. But yay satire clause of the first amendment. Makes everything on this site possible (and legal).

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The light had begun to fade and cast a golden glow within the dark walls of Ground Zero. Only open a week, the café still smelled more like new paint than the dark roast it served, but it was calm and comfortable and had nothing to hide. There were a few paintings hung on the long, exposed brick wall – a partnership with a local arts academy high school that would give the walls a new touch every week and offered exposure to talented young artists. But there were some things that stayed the same. The dark wood chairs, though mismatched, had comfortable cushions and smooth armrests, and the chess-topped table always had a new game set to play. There were books shelves built into the counter, some shining with new life and some worn pale through years of love.

Anne stood behind the counter, a tri-colored fluffy mass lay at her feet. There was still another hour before she would close for the night, but with both the hour and the newness of the café, she was quite alone with her dog. But she didn't mind – there was a quiet, refined comfort in the shop and she enjoyed the feeling immensely. She quietly sang along with the sound system, Sinatra's smiling voice floated around her and she stepped lightly as she continued to tidy the counter.

She saw the dog's head raise in curiosity before she heard the front door open. Turning toward the person, she smiled and welcomed them. It was a new face, but at that time most were. He had an air of heaviness about him and his face was passively stern. She smiled and welcomed him, asking what he would like to drink.

"Large black coffee, please," he stated. There was no rush or hesitation, and Anne thought it odd for a man like him to have caffeine at such a late hour in the day. She went to the carafe and poured black liquid into a large blue mug. When she went to hand him the cup, however, she paused. There was a darkness in his presence, a sadness not belied by his face.

"How are you today?" she asked, passing the mug over the counter more slowly than she should have. He mechanically reached for the cup and seemed startled to find hard ceramic instead of paper.

"Fine," was his quick reply, his head turning and surveying the room for a place to sit; an unintended consequence of his distraction. Anne placed her elbows on the counter and folded her hands under her chin.

"I'm not sure I quite believe you on that one," she replied. He began to reach into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, but she shook her head. "None of that. The drink is yours if you sit and talk with me."

He looked at her quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "That doesn't seem to be the best way to run a new business."

"Or is it?" She retaliated, turning her back to the man to make herself a hot chocolate. "If I sit and talk with one out of every ten new customers I get, those people have a much higher probability of returning or even becoming regulars," She whisked chocolate around in her mug and poured milk into a metal cup to be steamed, "The free drink," she turned her head away from the machine and toward him, flashing a kind smile, "is because you seem like you need it."

Anna finished making her drink, lifted the hinged door on the counter and went over to sit on a dark red antique couch. The dog, no longer content without his mistress, trotted under the hinged counter and jumped onto the couch, laying his long snout on her leg. Her right hand stroked his head as her left hand held her steaming drink. The man was still standing at the counter.

"Well," she said, "are you going to stand there or make me enjoy my drink alone?" He hesitated for a moment but then walked over to a chair adjacent from the couch and sat down.

"What's his name?" he asked, nodding to the dog.

"Jaime," she replied, "And yours?"

"Aaron Hotchner." She leaned over the empty space between them, extending her hand,

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hotchner. I'm Anne." They shook hands. The dog had lifted his head at the movement of his headrest and looked quizzically at the man until apparently being satisfied and replacing his head back on Anne's lap.

"I haven't seen a rough collie in years," Hotchner said, the side of his mouth turning up slightly in the beginnings of a smile. Anne ruffled the dog's ears and pet his thick fur in long strokes.

"He's a great dog. Somebody decided they didn't want him anymore, though I can't imagine a reason why not. I guess some people just don't have their priorities straight." Slightly more of a smile from the man. Anne guessed that he would have lovely dimples if he ever did fully smile.

She sat back against the chair and sipped her drink.

"So what happened today that would make a man drink black coffee after six pm?" The smile vanished and the solemn face returned.

"Just a long day at the office" he returned. Anne cocked her head slightly to the right.

"I doubt it's just that. But that's all right. What kind of work do you do?"

She could see him pause and analyze her, almost every inch. It felt to her like an inspection. He exhaled and his shoulders slightly relaxed. Apparently she had passed.

"I'm a profiler for the FBI."

Anne nodded. No wonder he was tense, he must analyze everyone around him at all hours of the day.

"What kinds of things outside of work do you like?" Jamie had closed his eyes, but Anne could tell he was still listening to their voices.

"One of my colleagues and I used to watch old films together. Chaplin and such."

"Have you seen _12 Angry Men_?" she asked. His smile was back.

"Of course. I started out as a lawyer. That's one of the best legal films. Especially for one without an actual lawyer in it." Anne smiled. He relaxed a little more.

The door opened and another customer came in. Anne stood and walked behind the counter, Jamie trotting at her heels. Hotchner watched her from where he sat. She was cheery in her job, and he could see that very little of it was a façade. Her curly hair swayed as she shifted weight, and her long arms carefully accepted charge and relinquished change. It was a dance to her, these light movements, and she held a rare elegance. He didn't know that he had started to smile.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello all! I've gotten a surprising amount of support for this story in the short time it's been up: it's very much appreciated. And it's fueling my procrastination of grad school stuffs. But I'm completely ok with that. Anyway, I hope this chapter is up to your standards! Please R&R!

A busy morning at Ground Zero meant that there were at least six people in the café at any one time. And it was a Monday morning, so it happened twice. Anne and Jamie had opened at seven, and the place was classified "busy" at 7:25; just in time for people to grab their coffee, sit for a few minutes, and then leave for work in time to be wherever they needed to be by eight. The bell on the door chimed, signaling the seventh person had entered the shop. Anne was busy jumping from order to order, she didn't look up –but Jamie did. The collie raised his sleek head, long nose fixed on the new arrival. Apparently interested enough to move out of his comfortable spot, the dog raised himself and wove between and around the legs of patrons, earning pats and scratches as he passed a few. He stopped at a tall pair of black pants and shiny black shoes, but his long nose kept travelling, trying to wander its way into the man's pocket. Aaron Hotchner knelt down, face-to-face with Jamie, and rubbed his hands deep into the tri-colored fur of the dog's scruff. A pink tongue lolled diagonally out of the collie's long snout and the dog sat down, quite happy to be fussed over but fully expecting a treat of some kind.

Hotchner looked up from the smiling dog and trained his eyes on Anne. She was busy. He thought it strange that she had yet to hire any help, for it seemed that six orders at once was nearing close to her stress point. But still she danced around behind the counter, multi-tasking when she could and saving time when she couldn't. But she was smiling. It seemed strange, Aaron thought, that people could smile like that in a world in which unspeakable horrors occurred almost daily. But he didn't think that she would be the type to refuse the fact that those horrors existed, instead she would be the type to train herself to see the good in everything – an eternal optimist – no matter what stressors may come her way.

A long nose had started to wriggle its way into his pocket, apparently impatient for the treat hidden there. Hotchner smiled, reached into his pocket, and held out the large dog treat. He was surprised at how gently Jamie took it. The dog's snout barely grazed his hand and he took a long time to lift the treat, as if double-checking that he was allowed to. But as soon as approval dawned on him, he happily carried the treat back to his spot under the counter, fluffy tail waiving the entire way. He munched happily, crumbs falling between the broken pieces, and Anne was startled when she stepped on one. She knelt down to the dog and petting his head, rhetorically asked where he got his gift. The dog just kept munching. But she finally looked up, and through the relative crowd, she saw Aaron Hotchner. She smiled and turned back to her existing orders. There were two more people ahead of him in line, so he waited.

The arts academy's theme for the week must have been blue, because there was a lot of it on the walls. Some paintings were crisp, geometric shapes with hard, straight lines and sharp angles, but some bordered on experimental impressionist –an attempt at a tumultuous seascape used beautiful, rich colors, but it was clear that the painter had lost sight of the original plan and simply stuck with enjoying the blues, purples, and greens of their palate. A small, fluffy stuffed sheep whimsically stood next to the tip jar, and string lights were strung across the width of the ceiling. Back and forth, back and forth, Hotchner decided that they likely represented the stars clouded by the city's light pollution. Whether she thought of it consciously or not, little pieces of Anne were everywhere in the café.

Hotch stepped up in front of the counter, his wait in line ending at a suspiciously similar time as the readiness of the other orders. The counter was clear, the customers were happy, and there was nobody waiting behind him. Anne plopped her elbows on the counter and a relaxed smile spread on her face.

"Large black coffee, Mr. Hotchner?"

"Actually, I think I'll have a tea this morning. What kind would you suggest?" Her lips pursed in thought.

"I've got a nice spiced chai, would that work?"

"Perfectly."

She turned from him to ready his order, but continued the conversation. "Quiet day at the office?"

"One never knows, but hopefully just paperwork."

"Ah. The dreaded paperwork," She poured hot water into the cardboard cup she held, "Glad I don't have to do much of that anymore."

He smiled a little, "It's not entirely awful; putting cases to rest and making sure the team is in working order with the higher-ups." She placed the steaming cup on the counter in front of him.

"Oh you and your team! Got any real characters amongst them?" She hoped he had time to stay and talk a bit, the next busy period in the café wasn't due for another hour and stragglers would be few and far between. Hotchner smiled and reached for his cup.

"A few. We have a particularly interesting technical analyst. I'm constantly stuck between being in awe of her and wondering if I should have her drug tested."

Anne cocked a mischievous, lopsided grin, "She's that good? Is she odd in the 'I'm actually kind of genuinely worried about her' way or in the 'you're a special snowflake and don't you ever leave' kind of way?" Hotchner smiled.

"Far more the latter. Thought the former does pop up a bit now and again, but that just comes with the job." He looked up at the menu on the wall, debating. "I think, I'm actually going to bring my team some of your coffee, if you don't mind. Though I'm not quite sure what everyone drinks . . ."

"Ah ha!" Anne exclaimed, pushed herself off the counter, and held her arms out wide, "I am the baroness of the bean, enlighten me to your team and I shall craft their coffee!" Anne's smile widened as Aaron laughed softly.

"What would you suggest for the woman I just described? And with the addition that she wears bright colors and surrounds herself with whimsical things?"

"Let's try a vanilla latte with cinnamon, nutmeg, and hazelnut. I'll start it and you start telling me about the next person."

"Young, genius, book-smart but sometimes misses social cues."

"Talks really quickly while he thinks?"

"Exactly."

"Let's do a chai latte with a bit extra sweetness. Next."

"Classic, mature Italian man."

"That's all I get?" she replied jokingly.

"That's probably all you need. He's pretty textbook and a bit stereotypical, but brilliant nonetheless."

"Understood. Classic latte with a hint of spice, easy on the milk. C'mon, give me a challenge!" She was having far too much fun with this, and Aaron was beginning to feel intoxicated in her happiness.

"Strong guy, loyal, moral compass made of steel."

"Dark roast, no additives necessary."

"Intelligent, savvy, wise woman, grew up internationally."

"Vanilla latte with an extra espresso shot."

"Last one: kind, good with people, but protective and hard as nails when she needs to be."

"Dark chocolate hazelnut mocha. Done."

Hotchner knew Anne would take a little while on the coffee, so he started reaching for his wallet. "How much do I owe you for these?"

She placed the first two in a multiple-cup cardboard carry tray, "Introductions." Hotchner looked up, mildly startled but some part of him was pleased.

"Is that another one of your business plans to get more customers?" he teased.

Anne shrugged. "A bit, but mostly because of your descriptions. Your team is important to you, that's extremely obvious, and they seem like good people. Besides," she looked up from her current project, the mischievousness still blatantly apparent in her eyes, "I want to see how they would describe you."


End file.
